


Talking Body

by giwp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just needed a break. A change from a monotonous life. The stranger staring up at me, eyes swimming and breath smelling entirely of alcohol, might just be that chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Body

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entire thing on little scraps of paper at work
> 
> [Listen to this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzRyxGBGiAE) on repeat

The feeling of his body all over me, all around me, was intoxicating. He was everywhere and it was overwhelming and serene all at once. The fact that I didn’t even have a name to the body was embarrassing but it thrilled me to the bone. It was like getting caught with my hands in the cookie jay except this didn’t involve nasty, vulgar euphemisms for a vagina. Nope. This guy most definitely had a dick and my thigh could attest to that. The feeling of him grinding against the denim stretched across my lower body emphasized how restricting the jeans I’d chosen to wear that night were.

But it want my fault. I hadn’t even known about the outing until I was being dragged through the door by the sleeve of my old suit jacket the second I’d gotten inside the apartment.

“I’m too tired and too old for this, Sash. Why can’t we just have a normal night in like other go on Friday nights after a week of hell?”

“Other people?” she says over the mumble of the candy bar stuck between her teeth. “Other people our age, dear Marco, are out clubbing their little hearts out and getting dick like they’re a 1960s prostitute. So I’m gonna need you to go take your 6 P.M. piss and shit and get ready for sidewalk tacos and bar hopping.” She smirks at me, slapping my butt with the vicious grin plastered onto her face as she walks back to the kitchen.

I overhear a comparatively deeper man’s voice talking to her and I guess Connie is just forever a fixture of club “Room 67” until the day of change comes. Months of dating rang wedding bells for Sasha and I was happy for her, sure, but the thought was bitter sweet knowing she’d leave someday and leave Marco by himself in their quaint apartment. The foresight to prepare for change something could come on a whim from the bald man talking in their kitchen always left me feeling sick so throwing my chances and life into Sasha’s hands. I make my way to my roam, not giving her the satisfaction of knowing peeing at 6 P.M. had become the norm.

Running a wet hand through my hair I decide to leave the rumpled look of my button down shirt and change out of the black slacks for something less rigid. And that apparently involved tight, black denim that “hugged my ass like they’ve met after a decade apart” as Sasha usually put it. I looked into the mirror, my reflection showing my rugged appearance. I really should shave at some point but the miniscule inspection of my face leaves me staring at the deepening wrinkles on my face. It’s not like I’m old as can be – 28 wasn’t much when you think of the big picture. But stuck with a nonmoving, slow job that was an endless bout of pencil-pushing, it was hard to look at the future as some grand scheme with drippings of rainbows and sunshine to brighten your day.

I never could see myself happy with a family or even outside this apartment with Sasha consistently around to eat my share of the food. It was hard and the thought of leaving his mind at home and allow himself to drown in the pumping music and shots of liquor became appealing second by second.

I make haste in cleaning up and running a hand one last time through my hair and cradling my neck before knocking the lights off with an elbow and walking through the archway into their kitchen. Sasha’s say up on their rickety, moving island Connie between her thighs as the whisper to each other foreheads pressed together. The moment is sweet and I wouldn’t want to intrude and ruin the mood but that’s beyond my problem and I quickly walk in, grabbing one of the few clean glasses on the counter and fill it with tap water. The noise doesn’t spook them, but the two pull apart – Connie moving to lean against the island next to Sasha’s legs, smiling up at me.

“Hey man. How’ve you been?”

“Better with the possibility of being mown down at the front door less likely when you’re around the place. It’s like she just forgets I exist.” I smirk to myself when I notice out the corner of my eye the color Sasha had turned into, her cheeks flushing and feet wiggling in embarrassment. Connie smiles as well, grabbing her knee for comfort and she visibly relaxes into the boy next to her.

“You’re horrible,” she mumbles and I smile wider making sure she sees my full set of teeth.

“You love me and I agreed to get dragged along to your little adventure so you should know the feeling is very much mutual.”

“I know, you butt. Doesn’t mean you’re still a loser.”

I stick out my tongue and bite down a smile at her. “So are we leaving or what? Because I really need a drink like in the next 30 minutes.”

Connie bounces away from Sasha and claps a hand over my shoulder. “That’s the spirit buddy! Onward to a night dedicated to getting shitfaced wasted and an assload of tequila shots to wash it all down.”

He leads the others towards the old metal front door, Sasha butting in with the same enthusiasm. “After we drown in pasta sauce, of course.”

It took a lot of convincing, but Connie and I had managed to peel Sasha away from the unlimited pasta bowl night and we finally made out way to the club across town, tummies full of way too much pasta. Prying her away with the promise to return some other weekend, Connie drove us back to the apartment where we hailed a taxi. None of us planned on staying sober.

The taxi ride was loud, Sasha excitedly yelling her plans to get sloshed off her rockers to an uninterested cab driver. I say at the window, looking out and listening, as her body tended to push into and lean over me in hurried pants. Somehow, she always managed to escape the lethargic lump that settled after a night of binging pasta and as Connie paid the man for their troubles plus the fare, I was able to look around at the streets.

I hadn’t given a preference for clubs at any point in the night and the two had decided to make it a surprise, claiming it was their treat anyway and promising a fun time – as long as he picked of the pasta tab. Connie finally caught up with me bidding the cab away and we both turned towards the lights and short line of some place called The Scouting Legion. The music from the inside of the club was as clear as water even out here

“Apparently this place has amazing cocktails and appetizers. Also since it tends to switch from a regular old bar to a gay bar whenever the night calls for it, we figured it’s perfectly flexible for all of us to have a lot of fun.” Connie’s words were chosen so carefully when he spoke that I wondered what the two of them had planned but all thought of it was lost when he spoke up again as they neared where Sasha was waving her hands around for them to see. “Definitely good for getting wasted – and hopefully get laid,” he adds as an after-thought, nudging me in the side with a boney elbow. I flinch at the offending limb and chuckle as we sidle next to a jittering Sasha.

“Sounds great but don’t try to go and find me some creepy guy to go home with. I don’t need my parents’ help with getting some if there even is ‘some’ at this place.”

Sasha shoots me a knowing glance, having caught onto their conversation relatively quickly. Her hands automatically gravitating to the open hand next to her, their hands perfectly slotting together without a second’s thought, brings a smile to my face and I just hope the losers in front of me are right about this. I wanted to just get drunk but a night away from home wasn’t the worst thought.

It only takes five minutes out in the cold before they’re allowed into the place behind a group of people that looked about our age. They’d been a loud bunch even next to Sasha, and the way they all stood with each other was curious to me and I’d spent most of the time trying to figure out who was with who. At times it seemed the smaller blond guy was with the loudest in their group, a guy around Sasha’s height. But the way he argued with their other friend, closer in height to me, ‘domestic dispute; was what immediately popped to mind and it was hard to decide. And then the situation of the lone woman in their group, flanked on the other side of the taller guy with the strange undercut just brought any guesses crumbling down. The three of them had ignored their line mates for a while until a loud squeal came out of the vicinity Sasha stood. She squealed, arms shaking above her head in an overly enthusiastic wave as she yelled to the people merely three feet ahead of them.

“Armin, bro! I haven’t seen you since like high school,” the shorter blond turned to face them and I noticed the was his eyes lit up with recognition and excitement as he grabbed his black-haired friend’s hand and dragging him closer to us. “Oh my god please tell me you started finally dating Eren?! And Mikasa?? Oh my god this is like some kind of family reunion.”

Her screaming continued as she talked to her friends until I realized along with the tall blond with the odd haircut, that none of their friends had even remembered to introduce them yet. It gave me the chance to look at the other guy. He seemed like one of those forever-bitter types, his angular face cutting scowls at the way his friend – Eren – held close to his blond friend – Armin. His hair, although blond and in an undercut, wasn’t what was so interesting about it. It was more the fact that it tapered down into a much darker shade nearing a dark brown similar to Marco’s, seamlessly blending and sending odd chills down my back. His eyes, beady and tawny in color, bored holes at the ground, chancing glances up to my obvious staring, lined with what could be eyeliner and eyebrow piercings that really suited his face. After a couple minutes of listening to Sasha babble away at the much quieter group, the blonde – Undercut –- finally spoke up. His attention directed at me. “So I guess we’re the third wheels of both groups, huh.” He chuckles awkwardly and I smile.

I stick out a hand towards him and see his eyes widen in question, eyebrows flitting up into his hairline as he stares at my hand, apparently not having expected a formal hello. Okay, so he’s pretty attractive especially when he looks confused.

“Name’s Marco,” I say. A moment of hesitation indistinguishable unless you put it under a microscope but the blonde accepts the hand giving it a firm shake in return. The sparks from being touched by him could make a person giddy and I tried my best to act nonchalant about it all and smiled back at him.

“Nice to meet you, I-” He’s cut off by Sasha her hands grabbing the sleeve of my shirt for what feels like the millionth time today. She grabs on, dragging me through the doorway, propped open for our much larger pack. “Time to get wasted!” she yells into my ear and for a second I panic as I lose sight of the boy. I relax when I see him trailing behind his friends, moving to sit on the opposite side of the group of us at the bar.

He dips his head into the first drink he’s handed and stays like that the majority of the night sometimes turning to watch the dancers but otherwise remaining to himself.

The others would drink and drag a body along with them to partake in whatever weird form of huffle alond the lit platforms. They attempted to drag me into the fray, only succeeding once because Sasha had managed to trip and catching her meant easy access for Connie to come up behind me and push me towards the music thrumming out radio pop songs.

The man at the end of the bar made no further attempts at conversation the rest of the time, just spending his time alone, staring through the drink in hand – watching the music thump around bodies against each other. It all seemed so vulgar, especially those moments when the most explicit of songs were blown through overused speakers at the group of people.

I could see the guy trying to look through me, eyes flickering from one place to another but I could also see the way his tawny eyes chanced back at me every few minutes. I was about to say something, a second attempt at finding a name until I was brought down again, looking up at his sharp nose standing, feet directed towards the stool I was at turned to look out for Sasha’s attempts at dancing. But now, all I can see is the guy’s face so close to my own. The smell of liquor is pungent and I feel like I’ve drowned myself in the mixture between his eyes and taste of the alcohol, lingering on my own mouth. It’s all a rush and I wonder how the guy had managed to sprint across the counter’s length and make it a foot away from where I say without me even noticing. His proximity leaves me nervous and I can already feel my hands sweating from the anxiety.

“Uh. Hey again-” I try to choke out.

He cuts me off before I can ask what he wants. “We’re dancing. Like now. This is stupid.” The blond pivots, his shoes squeaking, and he makes his way towards the dancefloor leaving me stunned and still sitting on the stool. He turns when he notices I’m not behind him following and he turns fully to stare back at me. I lock eyes with him, not sure what he really wants from me considering names had yet to fully be exchanged and the thought of that bothers me enough to apparently not get my ass up to follow him.

He seems to notice it, eyebrows furrowing, and he walks back towards the bar albeit more slowly at a pace that I can actually see his movements. The way his hips swivel and his steps lighten when his heels threaten to hit the floor fully. It’s almost as if he’s dancing on his toes and making his entire body follow on releve. Maybe he’s a dancer?

The swaying hips make it to stand in front of me. Eyes more subdued and less wild I can see determination on his face. He softens his face and holds a thin hand out towards me “C’mon.”

It’s the tiniest whisper but there wasn’t anything there to stop me from throwing myself into any type of motion the body in front of me could possibly make.

I followed, close behind, our hands still linked together and watched the way the sway of bodies around us seemed to just disappear into the haze around the dancefloor. All I could see was the bead of sweat sliding down the back of the shaven nape of the guy in front of me. The way the muscles there pulsed and tensed was hypnotizing for no good reason but I couldn’t get myself to look away.

His hands might had been as nervous and sweaty as mine but the way they intertwined with each other was intoxicating and I could feel the liquor making its way through my system. I lessened the distant tension between our bodies, bringing myself to follow closer as he pushed his way towards the center of the floor, closer to the rumble of the bass speakers. We made it to the only open space that could fit the space a body and a half could occupy and he rounded on me, face just inches away from my own as he looked into my eyes.

He smiled, a lecherous smile that did the worst things for me. The alcohol was most definitely doing the worst to me as I felt my face fail me and soften under his gaze. “You ready to dance freckles.”

“Uh-uh yeah. Yeah! Totally.”

“You sound like a nerd, ya know?” he smirked up at me. His face scrunched up in amusement and the dimples flew up from the depths of whatever he’d been covering, etching themselves onto porcelain skin.

My ears picked up the change in music over the rush of blood flowing up to my face. The clear rhythmic beats in the music pulsing in time with the blurry bodies around us and all I could was the smirk still directed at me and the feeling of hands grabbing onto my waist and pulling me close, flush, against a warm body.

The tips of my ears warmed considerably but I didn’t resist the arms looped around my waist and resting on the belt loops of my jeans. Still restricting and still way too much for any of this.

His face, closer than ever before, left searing marks into me as he stared. They roamed across my face and I knew they were counting the freckles across the bridge of my nose, creating constellations as many others had told him before and I hung my head between us.

The laugh came through over the speakers and yelling and as I snapped my head up, I was face to face – nose to nose – with eyes closed and a wide grin. It was beautiful, he was beautiful. His head thrown back in amusement at my idiocy and the sound of his voice clipping between the lilt in the song’s tone. His body rumbling, an earthquake between our pressed bodies shook us both and I latched onto him in return to steady us as his amount of liquor consumed tonight showed. He was wasted, there was no doubt to that and although it did for a second halt my thoughts from running off with the heat of his body, the way he looked back up, his eyes clearer and wide threw all caution to the wind and my grip on his tee shirt tightened.

I watched him bite his bottom lip and the temptation to just reach down that inch or two to meet them with my own was snapped out like with every other thought was involved this strange guy. He turned himself around, a complete 180, still in my arms any constellations he might’ve found over my face couldn’t hold up to the stars I saw in the dark ceiling of the club as he pushed himself back against me.

He continued the motions endlessly, pulling out the raunchiest moans I’d ever made in public from my lips and the smirk he shot over his shoulders didn’t stop them from escaping whenever he pressed himself against my heating body. The smell of sweat and alcohol intermingling in the small space they were allowed to pivot on.

The motions were repeated over and over and my grip tightened on him, grabbing at the open slice of skin from where the hem of his shirt had risen. The heat of his skin under the pads of my fingers wasn’t enough and I kept my nails from scraping lines onto the soft skin but the threat of him cutting off from his movements would kill me. He seemed to pick up on my desperation as he pivoted back on the balls of his heels, his chest pressed back into me again and my breath caught as he reached up on his toes and bringing his lips to my ear.

“It’s a block away from here.”

That was enough. I’d had enough.

I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers back together like they belonged that way and like we hadn’t met just a few hours ago and I nearly sprinted towards the door, dragging the sweaty body behind me.

Over the sound of the song’s bridge, the heat of the bodies we pushed ourselves through lessening as the sight of the exit came closer I heard the deep, raspy voice come from close near my ear.

“Jean, by the way. The name’s Jean.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write smut bc I turn as red as a tomato. but i can read it like a motherfucker so feel free to send me raunchy scenes for no reason
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


End file.
